


You're ready and you're willing

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, F/F, Fingerfucking, Genderfuck, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Alexis Rose, POV David Rose, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Roleplay, Scooby Doo References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: Everyone's feeling a little frisky after dressing up as Mystery Inc. for Hallowe'en.[Chapter one is David/Patrick, chapter two is Alexis/Stevie. Pick your poison, or drink from both chalices if you prefer.]
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 26
Kudos: 135
Collections: Up for Anything – a Schitt's Creek WLW porn collection





	1. Daphne & Velma

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I See You Pretending](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918986) by [Januarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januarium/pseuds/Januarium). 



> A few weeks back, Januarium wrote [a lovely little fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918986) about David, Patrick, Alexis, and Stevie dressing up as Mystery Inc. for Hallowe'en. And despite the fact that she wrote it because she wanted to write something that wasn't smut, she very generously allowed me to write the natural conclusion to the evening.
> 
> I didn't actually intend to write both pairings when I asked, but my brain got a little carried away.
> 
> You know where the title is from.

David has spent the whole party thinking aggressively non-sexual thoughts about Patrick, which is not something that comes naturally to him. But Stevie was, though he’ll never tell her this, not entirely wrong — it _is_ uncomfortable to get hard while tucking, not to mention the incorrectness of doing so in this outfit and in the middle of a party. So he’s spent the entire night pointedly not looking at Patrick’s thighs where they peek out from under the miniskirt, very much not thinking about just how many hickeys that turtleneck could hide, absolutely not noticing the way the orange and yellow eyeshadow makes Patrick’s eyes pop even behind the non-prescription glasses. 

But now they’re back in Schitt’s Creek, and Alexis and Stevie have already been dropped off outside Stevie’s apartment — where Alexis has elected to stay despite the fact that David and Patrick have two spare bedrooms and Stevie has none, which is a conversation he’s _definitely_ going to have with his sister another day — and it’s just the two of them in the back of Ray’s car, Patrick’s head resting on David’s shoulder, trailing small circles on his knee and making him shiver at the sensation of Patrick’s blunt nails scraping his skin through the coloured pantyhose. When Patrick’s hand starts creeping higher, inching under the hem of his dress, David has to forcefully remind himself that the days of Ray catching them mid-fuck were left behind when Patrick moved out of Ray’s hideously decorated spare room in order to stop himself spreading his knees and letting Patrick go for it. He tangles his fingers up in Patrick’s instead, listening to Ray chatter away and interjecting with the occasional _mm-hmm_ which, as far as he can tell, is all that’s required of him in this conversation. 

By the time they make it back to the cottage Patrick proves that he is, as always, on the same wavelength as David by kicking the front door closed behind them and immediately backing into it, pulling David flush against him as he tugs him into a messy kiss. They’re both still a little tipsy even after the long drive home, which is probably why when Patrick wraps one leg around his back David doesn’t stop to think before he scoops his hands under both of Patrick’s thighs and just _hoists,_ taking a step forward and pressing his hips into Patrick’s to hold him in place. Patrick’s half-lidded eyes fly open and David can hear the shocked gasp he sucks in through his teeth even as his ankles come together behind David’s back, hooking around each other. 

For a long moment they just stare at one another, Patrick breathing hard, his eyes wide and hands tight on David’s shoulders. Then Patrick’s mouth flickers almost imperceptibly at the corner, and David braces himself for whatever comment he’s about to make just as Patrick opens his mouth. 

“Jinkies.” Patrick breathes the word out, somehow managing to sound both teasing and turned on at once, and David snorts out a laugh as he buries his face in Patrick’s neck, pressing forward so he doesn’t drop his husband as his shoulders shake with laughter. Patrick’s warm chuckle is hot in his ear even as he drops his feet to the floor, and David reluctantly unwraps his fingers from around Patrick’s thighs to let him stand. They make their way upstairs by unspoken agreement, David magnanimously letting Patrick go first — and if that means he’s treated to the delightful view of Patrick’s miniskirt swaying around the top of his thighs as he ascends the stairs, well. It is what it is. 

By the time they turn into their bedroom David is uncomfortably turned on, and he doesn’t waste any time in kicking off the purple heels Alexis had to bring with her from New York — shockingly, none of the stores in Elmdale carried any in his size — and rolling the pantyhose down his leg. Patrick licks his lips and starts to fall to his knees, but David stops what he’s doing to grab him by the bicep and keep him upright as Patrick looks at him, a question clear in his eyes.

“On the bed, underwear off.” He’s surprised by how raspy his voice comes out but Patrick just grins as he steps back just out of reach, never breaking eye contact as he first kicks off his red flats and then slips his hands under the skirt to tug his underwear off, flinging them in the general direction of the hamper and backing up until his knees hit the bed before dropping back onto it. The skirt is tented obscenely now that there’s nothing left between the pleated fabric and Patrick’s erection, and David takes half a step forward before he remembers that the gusset of his pantyhose is still somewhere around his knees. He yanks them the rest of the way off as quickly as he can, prioritising speed over sensuality; once his legs are free of them his underwear quickly follows them into a pile on the floor. Then he’s on the bed, muscling his way in between Patrick’s legs as he runs his hands up the insides of his calves along the white socks. Once he hits skin just under Patrick’s knee, he replaces one hand with his mouth, nipping and kissing his way up Patrick’s thigh until he hits the hemline of the skirt. It’s far too short for David to stay hidden under so instead he pushes it up and away before taking Patrick in his mouth in one smooth stroke.

“Fuck, David.” He feels Patrick’s hands on the back of his head for a brief second before they’re snatched away again, and it takes him a moment to remember he’s still wearing his own red wig; not exactly something Patrick can yank him around by like he normally does. He slows his pace, flattening his tongue so it drags slowly up the underside of Patrick’s cock as he pulls up and waiting until he sees Patrick’s hands fisting in the sheets before sinking down again. He floats away a little at the langourous pace, his mind focused on the feel of Patrick’s dick in his mouth and the steady bursts of precome on his tongue, and he’s only jolted out of his worshipful reverie when something lands next to his elbow. He pulls his mouth off with a soft _pop_ and picks up what turns out to be a bottle of lube, glancing up at Patrick to find him staring back with a raised eyebrow, glasses sliding down his nose.

“Oh, sorry, did you want something?” Patrick’s gaze zeroes in on David’s mouth as he speaks, and David knows he must look debauched; he can see the pink lipstick on Patrick’s dick, knows it’s probably smeared at the corners of his lips as well. He swipes deliberately underneath his bottom lip with his thumb, watching Patrick’s eyes darken as they follow the movement before he blinks, obviously remembering there was a question. 

“I want you to open me up so I can ride you in that cute little dress.” To his credit Patrick’s obviously trying very hard to keep his voice steady, but it shakes in a way it only does these days when he’s wildly, out of his mind turned on, and David grins even as he uncaps the bottle. 

“Hands and knees, honey.”

Patrick’s eyelids flutter shut for a second before he opens them again, nodding decisively as he first rolls onto his stomach — narrowly avoiding kicking David in the chest — and then pushing himself up onto all fours. In this position the skirt barely covers his ass and David slips a slick finger underneath it, circling Patrick’s hole for a moment before pressing one finger slowly inside. He works Patrick open steadily, waiting until he’s rocking back impatiently to add a second finger, and until his panting turns into begging before adding a third.

By the time Patrick’s pulling himself free of David’s fingers and turning around David’s so hard he can barely think, his cock hard and leaking against the inside of his dress — thank goodness he bought it instead of hiring. Patrick nudges him down until he’s flat on his back and then swings one leg over David’s hips, sitting on David’s thighs as he blatantly runs his eyes from the hem of the dress all the way up David’s body. When he gets to the lime green scarf he freezes, head tilting slightly as he thinks something through before he leans forward.

“Can I?” He’s already untying the scarf as he says it and David nods as he realises what Patrick’s intending to do. Once the scarf is undone Patrick slides it gently off David’s neck, folding it lengthwise a couple of times before taking off the costume glasses and wrapping the scarf around his own eyes, knotting it at the back with practised ease.

“Boy Scout.” He knows by the way Patrick grins in response that he can hear the warm teasing in David’s tone even if he can no longer see the smirk that accompanies the words, and David thinks to himself not for the first or thousandth time what a blessing it is to be with someone who knows him as well as Patrick does. As well as they know each other, really, because as soon as Patrick raises up on his knees David grips his hips, guiding him until David’s cock is pressed right up against his hole, and then he slides his hands under the turtleneck to rake his nails up and down Patrick’s side as he waits. It’s not long before Patrick sinks down, his groan lost under David’s as they find themselves flush, and then Patrick reaches out awkwardly until he grips the fabric of David’s dress and hauls him up into a messy kiss.

David lets his hands slide down Patrick’s back and further, until they find the hem of his skirt and creep back under it to grip his thighs and then he’s pulling Patrick impossibly closer. Patrick takes the hint and starts to move, his head thrown back as he sets a frantic pace. It’s clear pretty quickly that as tipsy and keyed up as they are neither of them is going to last long, and David lets go of one of Patrick’s thighs in favour of wrapping a hand around his cock instead.

“You look gorgeous like this.” Even as he says it David’s not sure if he means the costume or the blindfold or the flush creeping down Patrick’s cheeks towards his neck, the one that means he’s close to the edge; maybe it’s all of it, his beautiful husband knowing exactly who he is, taking exactly what he wants. “So fucking pretty.” And Patrick gives a surprised cry as he comes, hot and wet all over David’s hand, and David strokes him through it just before his own orgasm overtakes him.

They just breathe together for a long moment, trading loose, lazy kisses, until Patrick finally eases himself off David’s dick with an almost petulant huff. He takes off the blindfold before staring down at his come-covered skirt, then at the bottom of David’s dress in the same state.

“We’re going to have to burn these costumes.”

David hums, thoughtful. “I think we can send them out for drycleaning.”


	2. Fred & Shaggy

By the time they stumble out of Ray’s car, bidding David and Patrick goodnight before making their way up to Stevie’s apartment, all Alexis can think about is trailing her fingers up under Stevie’s baggy t-shirt until she’s writhing underneath her touch.

But first, she wants her own hair back. This whole crossdressing thing _is_ a surprisingly cute look for her, but all the fun goes out of it when they’re no longer in public. She tugs Stevie into the bathroom with her as soon as she’s deposited the stuffed dog on the couch and they each pull off their wigs before starting to work on the wig caps in an easy silence, trading the occasional warm glance but otherwise focusing on their own tasks.

It still feels new, this thing with Stevie. It was a one-time drunken thing after she and Ted split up, and then it was a two-time drunken thing a few days later, and then it was a sober thing when they got a little distracted planning the bachelor party, and then it was a drunken thing _again_ after the wedding, and now… now it’s just a _thing._ A thing they haven’t put a name on, exactly, but they talk most nights and when Alexis said she was flying back from New York for a few days, Stevie made it clear in her own sardonic way that of course Alexis was welcome to stay with her. 

Neither of them bother with removing the makeup or anything else, yet; just brushing out their hair after it’s been smushed up under wig caps all night before making their way back out into the living room. Stevie grabs a bottle of chardonnay out of the fridge and two glasses off the counter, and brings those through as Alexis kicks off her shoes settles on the couch with her legs crossed. Stevie fills up the glasses and hands one to Alexis before reaching into the pocket of her t-shirt and pulling out a joint.

“We’re still in character, right?” She flashes a quick grin in Alexis’ direction as she leans forward to grab a lighter off the coffee table, but it’s enough to make her heartrate pick up a little. The thing about being with Stevie is that they don’t soften each other’s sharp edges out, exactly. It’s more like their edges complement each other, like a sexy little jigsaw puzzle.

“Mm, do we think Fred would be a smoker, though? Or is that just a Shaggy thing?”

Stevie barks out a laugh as she lights the joint. “They all thought the dog talked — every one of them was high as balls all the time.” She inhales deeply, but instead of passing the joint she leans forward instead; it takes Alexis half a second to get with the program and then she meets Stevie halfway, sealing their lips together to accept the shotgun she’s being offered.

They make their way through the joint this way; passing it back and forward, kissing each other lazily, sometimes with smoke in their mouths and sometimes not. By the time there’s just a roach left and their wine glasses are empty Stevie is half sprawled out on top of her, and Alexis has her hand under her shirt, running her fingernails gently just underneath the binder.

“Let’s go to bed, babe.” Her voice is husky from both weed and arousal, and Stevie’s eyes are dark as she nods. They make their way over to the bed, Alexis yanking the white sweater over her head as she goes. Then it’s the shirt and pants while Stevie tugs her t-shirt off and slips out of her own pants, but when she reaches for the binder Alexis stops her.

“Let me.” There’s always something a little bit magical about stripping Stevie out of her last layers of clothing, like all her defences are dropped with them. She pulls it off as gently as she can, and as soon as Stevie’s breasts are free she runs a thumb softly across one nipple before tweaking it gently. Stevie sighs into a yelp, a sound Alexis will never get tired of hearing.

They tumble backwards onto the bed in a messy kiss, Stevie’s fingers buried in Alexis’ hair as Alexis tugs gently at the lacy — and she suspects, although she’s happy to be proven wrong, entirely out of character for Shaggy — black panties until they slip down Stevie’s thighs and around her ankles. She feels Stevie make a kicking motion and assumes she’s managed to get them onto the floor and she breaks the kiss, bringing her mouth down to one of Stevie’s gorgeous pink nipples instead. She licks softly at it until it’s nice and hard under her tongue, and then starts tracing wet circles around her areola until Stevie’s whimpering underneath her, her hips bucking up. Stevie loves to get fucked but she’s pretty sure neither of them have the patience to mess around with getting the harness on tonight, so instead she trails her fingertips gently down Stevie’s stomach and across a patch of neatly trimmed pubic hair before pressing two fingers inside her, slow but deep, just how she likes it.

“Oh, fuck.” Stevie arches her back, pushing more of her breast into Alexis’ mouth which she takes eagerly as she starts moving her fingers. She’s just fucking Stevie for a long time, moving to the other nipple after she has to pull away to add a third finger, until finally Stevie’s breathing gets more erratic and she’s snapping her hips up to meet Alexis for every stroke. It’s only then, when she’s wild and desperate and teetering on the edge, that Alexis brings her thumb to Stevie’s clit and starts moving it in firm circles to match the speed of her fingers pressing inside her. 

“Alexis!” At the sound of her name she surges up, her lips meeting Stevie’s in a tangled kiss as Stevie moans her orgasm into Alexis’ waiting mouth. Alexis strokes her through it, waiting until the shaking turns into more of an oversensitive trembling before she gently removes her fingers and, only once Stevie’s opened her eyes again and is watching her hungrily, carefully licking them clean. 

“Come here.” Stevie’s mumbling, but she looks determined. “Come sit on my face.” 

Alexis can’t suppress a shiver as the words run through her. She stands up, slipping her boyshorts off — because if there’s one thing Roses know how to do it’s commit to a character all the way down, thank you very much — before clambering back onto the bed, swinging a knee carefully over so her legs are bracketing Stevie’s face. She’s expecting, after what looked like a pretty shattering orgasm, to have to drive proceedings, but Stevie grabs her ass with one hand and her thigh with the other, and tugs her down to meet her waiting tongue. 

Alexis grips the headboard with one hand to try and steady herself, and the other she places on top of Stevie’s on her thigh and squeezes encouragingly. Not that she needs any encouragement — for someone who whispered _I’ve never actually been with a woman before_ just a few short months ago, Stevie always eats her out like it’s an Olympic sport. Although that might be an unfair comparison, because Alexis has dated several Olympians and none of them ever made her feel like this — like her body was made to be worshipped. She can feel her hips thrusting forward involuntarily but Stevie doesn’t do anything to push her away; if anything she’s being tugged closer as she cries out Stevie’s name, over and over until one final time when she’s pretty sure she shrieks it and then she’s coming, her thighs barely able to hold her up as Stevie’s tongue slows but doesn’t stop. It’s not until Alexis slumps forward that Stevie finally lets up, letting her go so she can move shakily to collapse in at her side. 

Once she’s got her breath back, and her legs are feeling like they can actually carry weight again, Alexis swings her legs off the bed to go and get them a washcloth to clean up with. When she sits up, though, she glances over at the couch and then freezes as something catches her eye, a nervous giggle escaping her lips before she can contain it.

“What’s up?” Stevie sounds close to sleep already, but Alexis turns to her with more laughter bubbling up in her throat. She’s a little high and a little tipsy, otherwise she probably wouldn’t find this as funny as she does.

“That dog was, like, watching us the entire time.” 

Stevie sits up, glancing over at the couch where the stuffed Great Dane she carted around all night as part of their costume is indeed staring directly at the bed. She looks at Alexis, and Alexis looks back at her.

“Like, zoinks, Scoob!” It’s a pitch-perfect Shaggy impression, and Alexis laughs all the way to the bathroom as Stevie sinks back into the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
